"Don't be a fool," snarled His Supremity. "You are about the only honest man on the force and the one man I have never caught in a lie. Mr. Mercy, have you any defense?"
"Simply that this is a fabrication on the part of No. 45," drawled Mercy. Having passed through the various stages of rage, surprise, and fear, he had emerged in a mood of dangerous calm. "I had occasion to discipline the fellow recently. This, I presume, is his revenge."
Mr. Justice Supreme glared at him. His next words showed that while the servants as a body might be "Masters of the City," Mr. Justice Supreme was in turn their very arbitrary tyrant. Whether he held this power because of his own malignant personality, or because of hereditary authority, it was power absolute. No. 45 had made no mistake when he braved the certain wrath of Mr. Mercy and thereby gained the favor of His Supremity.
"Mr. Mercy," said the latter with snarling bluntness, "you are a liar and No. 45 is not! Again and again you have recently overstepped the mark, thinking, perhaps, that I have no eyes and no ears but my own, and that they are growing defective with old age. We will go into your case fully at a more appropriate time and try to correct that impression. You will find that the exposing of state secrets to help along some petty intrigue of your own is not the light offense you appear to believe it.
"Let this prisoner be held as a witness-no, I do not care to have him held. One who has desecrated the realm of sacred knowledge cannot die too quickly. Cast him into the pit!"
A trifle pale, but entirely self-possessed, Drayton had stood silent. Even now, hearing that by-this-time monotonous decree, be made no attempt to defend himself. Indeed he found composure for a certain whimsical reflection. Twice before he had been condemned to the pit-once, two days ago, by Judge Virtue, in this very temple; once, in a distant place and age, before a tribunal whose proceedings, though less promptly fatal, were strangely similar in spirit. And of the two, Penn Service was the kindlier. Its condemned neither endured imprisonment nor had time to suffer the bitterness of unjust disgrace.
Breaking from her brother's sustaining arm, Viola Trenmore pushed her way between the police and caught Drayton's cold hand in hers.
"Mr. Justice Supreme," she called, "may I make an appeal?"
Drayton turned with a gesture of protest. "Viola," he said earnestly, "go back to your brother. You can do nothing for me."
"And do you think we would let you die alone?" she whispered fiercely.
Mr. Justice Supreme gazed down upon her, and as he looked his loose old mouth spread in a ghastly smile. A gleam brightened his lecherous old eyes.
"Are you the young lady who is destined to assume the title of Loveliest? My nephew has spoken to me of you. He spoke very highly-very highly indeed. My own eyes confirm his claims for your fitness. Your examination is next on the list, I believe, and I assure you that you need fear nothing from your rival. You will make many friends, my child, and you must count me as one of the first."
At the words, Lady Green-eyes, standing by Trenmore, gasped and turned very white beneath her rouge. Even before the high priest had finished, however, her green eyes were flashing. A surge of real color backed the artificial on her thin cheeks. With catlike quickness she had comprehended the situation. As though he had grown suddenly loathsome, she drew away from Trenmore.
"So!" she spat out. "You were planning to betray me, were you? After all I have done for you, you meant to put that sly puss of a sister of yours in my place! You were planning to have me thrown in that very pit I saved you from such a little while ago! And I thought you were honest. Because you were so big and strong I took you for a real man! Bah! You are no better than the rest of these swine-you are no better than Mercy or Clever or any of the others!"
Her voice had steadily risen until every eye in the hall was focused upon them.
Trenmore could say nothing. His face was suffused by a deep, burning flood of painful color. At this moment what had looked right and just enough when Cleverest proposed it appeared in a different light. No matter if the woman had planned a disagreeable future for Viola, she had also unquestionably saved the girl from a choice between death and dishonor; saved himself and Drayton from immediate destruction.
What miasma of treachery existed in this ancient city that he, who prided himself on his loyalty, had become so horribly infected?
Up went his head in that old gesture of defiant decision. He strode to his sister's side, sweeping two policemen out of his way, and flung an arm about Viola and his friend together.
"Your honor," he thundered, "that lady yonder is right! We have been in danger of making ourselves no better than the Servants of Penn, Heaven judge them for their sins and their murderings! No better than your honor's self, and I take shame to admit it! But that is over. We three want no favors. We want nothing at all from any of you, save to go our way clean and straight. If you choose to murder us, then we will go by way of that pit you're so infatuated with. Terence Trenmore has been mad these two days past, but he's sane again now, thank Heaven, and can speak for himself and his own!"
Viola drew a long breath, and stood up proudly between the two men. She had meant making a desperate plea for Drayton's life, and if that failed she had meant to die with him. But this was far better-that they three go together, not forced, but proudly and avoiding shame. From her eyes also the scales had been swept away. She knew now that this ending had been inevitable-that she could never have stood by and seen another woman, however hateful, murdered that she might go safe.
The semi-amiable expression on the High Priest's face twisted back to its habitual snarl. Cleverest stood glowering like a thundercloud.
"Nephew," said Mr. Justice Supreme, "your clemency and kindness have been thrown away. Do you still wish to raise this girl to your side?"
"Yes!" came the prompt reply. The trap mouth clicked shut on the bare affirmative.
"You do?"
"I do, Your Supremity. As a personal favor, I ask that Miss Trenmore be urged to speak for herself and that her brother be not yet condemned. That woman whom we have tolerated too long as one of us has insulted him so grossly that I cannot wonder at his taking umbrage. I ask that she"-he leveled a thin forefinger at the indignant Loveliest-"be removed beyond further power to poison with her venom, and that this girl and her brother be given time to consider before they hurl themselves to destruction. I even ask that you grant this other stranger-this Drayton-reprieve that he may bid his friends farewell. It cannot be that he would wish so young and lovely a girl to share his fate. If he is a man he will urge his friends to accept the life, wealth, and high honors which Penn Service can bestow. Your Supremity, may I hope that my prayer is granted?"
The high priest bowed his head. It was clear that Cleverest had a tremendous influence with his uncle and a hold on Penn Service far stronger than was indicated by his official position.
"You ask a great deal, my boy, but you always did that. After all, there can be no harm in granting your wish. The girl is too pretty to be the bride of the old war god. If, however"-and his voice rose to the shrill impatience of the aged-"if after due respite they still refuse your kindness, then I decline to be troubled any further. If they refuse they shall all die, and that green-eyed she-cat with them. I'm tired of seeing the painted fool about."
"Take these three people away. Lock them all up together and let them make up their minds once for all. At ten to-morrow morning they may either die or accept. No great matter which. Hold that other man-Bertram-for the same hour. Take them away! And now, Mr. Pity, there are no further candidates. You may omit the rest of the proceedings. I want my luncheon. I'm an old man, Clever, and all this excitement is bad for my heart. If you ever had any consideration for anyone but yourself-"